


Everything was Wonderful

by NerdyMariaMania



Category: A Very Potter Musical Series - Team StarKid
Genre: Food mention, I'm only hanging onto HP because of Starkid, M/M, anyway it's been a decade and quirrellmort still owns me, mention of magic, oh well, probably didn't use spells right
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-24
Updated: 2019-03-24
Packaged: 2019-12-06 22:30:33
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,013
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18226250
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NerdyMariaMania/pseuds/NerdyMariaMania
Summary: Their tenth anniversary is fast approaching, and Quirrell has decided to do something for it. Voldemort has always been a tad behind on their romantic endeavors, or maybe Quirrell has just been a bit too fast.*A one shot of Quirrell and Voldemort in celebration of Team Starkid's tenth anniversary of AVPM! This decade has been totally awesome.





	Everything was Wonderful

Maybe it’s the sound of Quirrell’s heartbeat that’s comforting? The knowledge that the man underneath him is alive and real. Maybe it’s Quirrell’s hand in his hair, lightly stroking. Or just how normal this feels. The slight humming noises he makes when reading. Voldemort was enamoured with him. Staring up at him, almost curled up in his lap as he read from one of his books. Voldemort’s head resting on his chest, he couldn't look away.

“You're staring a hole through my chin, Voldemort.” Quirrell flipped to the next page of his paperback book, not looking away.

“Oh, sorry, sorry,” Voldemort could feel his throat tighten slightly. “Just thinking.” 

A small smile crept upon Quirrell’s lips, as he placed his bookmark in the book and set it down on the arm of the chair they were both in. “About?”

“How great this is.” Voldemort sighed a content sigh, Quirrell now looking down at him.

“It's a friday.” Quirrell couldn't help but smile, knowing he meant them and not the day.

Voldemort short circuited for only a moment, his expression turned from realization to feigned annoyance. “You know what I- Quirrell, I'm just happy, is all.” 

“I know, love.” He bent down to kiss his forehead, then almost going back to his book before Voldemort interrupted again.

“Quirrell, do you have any plans for tonight?”

“K-kind of.” Voldemort could not only feel but hear Quirrell’s heartbeat get slightly faster, but they both tried to act innocent.

“What do you mean kind of?” The return of Quirrell’s stuttered only happened now if he was awoken from a nightmare, it made Voldemort worry.

Quirrell smiled, his heartbeat calming down. “Well, I was going to keep it a surprise, but I wanted to have a nice evening with you. Dinner, movie, dancing, the whole shebang…”

“It's not our anniversary.” Voldemort propped himself up so now he was sitting in Quirrell’s lap.

“Oh, I-I know, I just wanted to do something special,” Quirrell hummed slightly. “S-speaking of, I need to start dinner. Do you mind getting up?” 

Voldemort held a finger out in front of their faces to say ‘just a moment,’ before kissing him on the lips, Quirrell returning the pleasure, his lower back always tensing when Voldemort kissed him just so. 

“Okay, now you can go.” Voldemort smiled as the broke apart, both getting up. 

Quirrell laughed, slowly making his way to the kitchen. “Do you mind picking a movie for us?”

“Oh, what about ‘Tusk Love?’ That one was good!” He practically bounced to the coffee table to look through the DVD drawer.

Quirrell rolled his eyes as he walked to the kitchen, getting ready to try to make the best dinner they've ever had. “We watched that like two weeks ago!”

“How about ‘Lucky?’” Voldemort shuffled through the DVD’s, leaving the ones he didn't want on the floor beside him.

Voldemort heard steel clash against steel as Quirrell got out a few pots, a colander, and a baking sheet. “No, the dog dies! That's really sad, something nice and romantic!”

“I- okay! I'll find something!” He sat down on the floor, making small stacks of cases as he tried to find the right movie. 

“Cool.” Quirrell said under his breath, elongating the L, before scurrying to the pantry to get pasta noodles. 

Before long, Quirrell had the noodles boiling, he used magic to thinly slice the chicken breasts, and got out the vegetables to make salad. Cutting up tomatoes and celery was easy, making sure nothing boiled over was hard. He periodically looked over his shoulders, at the stove and the other cutting board, then looking back down at the cucumber he was peeling and chopping up. With a flick of his hand, a pan levitated to the other burner, the dial being turned up, olive oil being poured in, Quirrell not looking up from the carrots he was delicately cutting. He turned from the vegetables and waved his hand again, muttering a word or two, the vegetables magically transporting to a big bowl, being tossed and fixed how he wanted them. With another word, the knife cutting the chicken fell an inch to the cutting board, and Quirrell began seasoning them with thyme, salt, pepper, and oregano. 

“Quirrell, I can't decide between ‘She's all that,’ ‘Pretty Woman,’ and ‘You've got mail.’ Any opinions?” He heard Voldemort’s voice from the living room. 

Quirrell started to transport the chicken to the pan with tongs, and thinking over the movies. “We've watched ‘She's all that’ tons of times, honestly.”

“Well, yes, it's our movie.” Voldemort shuffled around the living room, Quirrell couldn't see what he was doing, but he was most certainly pacing.

“You are right.” Quirrell muttered and he flipped the chicken on to its other side, “We could watch two of them if you want since it's the weekend!” 

“Hmm, maybe!” Voldemort looked between the other two DVD cases in his hands before putting ‘You've got mail’ back in the DVD drawer. “‘She's all that’ and “‘Pretty Woman’ it is!”

Satisfied with his decision, he sighed contently before looking around the living room. “Whole shebang, hey?” He muttered, echoing Quirrell’s words. 

He turned towards the fireplace and took out his wand. Voldemort had barely been using it or magic now, brought back too many bad memories, but he needed it in this instant. Moving the wand in an arching fashion and then back down, the flame did not form or take to the fireplace. Perplexed, Voldemort furrowed his eyebrows, blinking and staring intently at the wand.

“Oh, shit, yeah.” He pointed the wand at the fireplace once more, making the shape in the air. “Incendio.” 

He knew how to control magic, this spell was child's play, the fireplace coming to life in an instant. With a satisfied grin, he moved over to the many candles they kept in the living room, lighting them by waving his hand one by one. After placing each candle away from any books and house plants, he dimmed the lights, the soft glow of the fireplace and candles filling the room. Voldemort bit his bottom lip, trying to figure out what to do next. Looking out the window, he spotted Quirrell’s garden and his pet garden snakes, and got what he considered a brilliant idea. Twirling his wand between his fingers, he opened the window and motioned with his wand, the flowers in the flowerbed moving upright and growing towards Voldemort’s wand. 

“Herbivicus.” 

The flowers that weaved together towards Voldemort’s wand danced in the air before finding their way to the window seal. Sliding down the inside wall, more and more flowers bloomed, white, blue, purple, yellow, and pink. Swirling his wand across the room, the flowers followed, blooming and sprouting on the walls, growing heavily down the brick of the fireplace and hearth. A tiny bed of flowers congregated in front of the fireplace, Voldemort bent down to touch all throughout it, no thorns.

“Orchideous” At the end of his wand appeared a bouquet of red roses. He sat them down in the flower bed, putting his wand away, content with the decorator.

Quirrell placed dough on the baking sheet, almost spinning after placing it in the oven and turning the timer on, examining the rest of the food. “Okay, salad is done, fettuccini is almost done, rolls- just started. What am I missing? What am I missing?” 

Muttering to himself, he moved two fingers, the pasta moving from the colander to the large pan where the rest of the chicken and Alfredo sauce was. He let it rest as he racked his brain trying to remember what he was forgetting.

“Wine! Should we have wine?” Quirrell questioned himself, barely whispering.

“I'd like a glass.” Voldemort’s voice was close, and as Quirrell soon would find out when he turned towards that voice, so was the rest of him.

“You scared the living daylights out of me.” Quirrell chuckled, leaning back on one of the counters, holding his chest. “Just a glass?”

“Why, you want to get me drunk?” Voldemort smiled, flirtatious eyes staring daggers at his boyfriend.

“No, no, n-no!” Quirrell inhaled and exhaled sharply, not wanting to stutter anymore. “Complete opposite, actually.”

“Well,” He pointed behind him towards the living room. “once you're done in here, I want to show you my magic decorating! I think you'll like it, and if not I can magic it away.”

Quirrell searched the adjacent pantry for the bottle of wine they had, just opening the door and sticking his head in. “Part of me is terrified of what you've done, the other part already loves it.” 

Voldemort laughed as Quirrell found the wine, placing it on the counter next to the salad bowl. “Once you see it, both parts of you will love it!” 

“I'm sure I will.” He stepped over to the stove, using the tongs to mix the fettuccine with the rest of the dish. “Okay, this is done, salad’s done, we have wine, the rolls will be done in-” 

Voldemort leaned on the counter with his elbow, eye fixed on Quirrell as he looked at the timer, a sloppy smile adorning his face.

“-eight minutes. What am I forgetting?” A hand wrapped around the one Quirrell was holding the tongs with. “Hmm?”

“You made my favorite dinner.” Voldemort interrupted his train of thought that had been going for what seemed like years.

“I-” Quirrell’s eyelids fluttered a moment. “I did, yes.” 

“Thank you, squirrel.” A softness to Voldemort’s voice trickled through, only Quirrell ever got to hear it.

“Y-you're welcome, um…” 

There was a silence in the air neither wanted to address, but Quirrell furrowed his eyebrows and cleared his throat. “Care to show me what you've done to the living room?”

Voldemort gasped and smiled a toothy grin. “Yes, right this way, sir!” He swept his arms theatrically, presenting the living room. 

Quirrell had to give it to him, both parts of him loved how it looked. The way the flowers and small vines adorned the walls, moss magically growing in corners gave it an almost canopy vibe. The soft light from the fireplace and all the candles gave the room a beautiful glow. The only other light from the open window where the sun was starting to set. Everything was even more perfect than he could have imagined. Looking in front of the fireplace in a bed of flowers was a bouquet of red roses, tied with a bow.

“Oh, those are for you! Well, all of this is for you,” Voldemort awkwardly laughed, picking up the bouquet and handing it to him. “You said you wanted the full shebang, right?” 

“R-right.” Quirrell’s eyes didn't leave the fireplace.

“Do you hate it? I can fix it!” Voldemort took out his wand, ready to undo everything.

“N-no! No, no, no! I absolutely love it, Voldemort, I think it's very, very sweet. And you did a beautiful job.” Quirrell smiled, taking the flowers from him, kissing his cheek. 

“I wanted to make it as romantic as one of your romance novels. I do have two other surprises, one I can't do until it's dark outside, but!” Voldemort circled his wand, Quirrell recognized the enchantment immediately, a ceiling illusionary spell. 

The ceiling didn't change at all, just mistletoe above them, which made Quirrell try to hide his smile. “Voldemort, Christmas is a bit away, and also I'm Jewish.”

Voldemort shrugged, putting his hands on Quirrell’s hips. “What? It doesn't change the fact we're standing under mistletoe, them’s the rules! I have to kiss you!”

“You-” Quirrell giggled as their lips connected briefly. “-are insufferable.” 

“I am!” Voldemort leaned in to kiss him again, smiling as they did.

He shook his head, grinning and biting his lower lip. “But I love you. And these,” He lifted the bouquet in his hand. “need water. Do you want to eat in here or the dining room?” 

“Here's good, we can eat and watch the movies.” Voldemort twirled his wand again, the enchantment disappearing above them.

Quirrell nodded. “Okay, I'll be right back, hopefully the rolls will be done.” He quickly walked back into the kitchen, holding out his left hand, bouquet in his right. “Accio vase.”

A simple glass vase wooshed by and landed in his left hand, he placed the roses in, filling the vase with water from the tap. Setting it down on the counter, he glanced at the timer again, four minutes left. Quirrell drummed his fingers on his legs, impatiently waiting on the rolls. Usually he was the calm one, but he was anxious and wanted the dinner, and the night to go perfectly. He looked over everything, a mental checklist going off in his head. 

‘Wine, salad, and fettuccine chicken alfredo all done; rolls in the oven for- three more minutes. Fuck, go faster, what am I forgetting?’ Quirrell tapped his foot with a vengeance over these rolls specifically. ‘Oh, the brownies! Yes, well, I can heat those up after we're done with dinner.’

“Quirrell, I'm gonna put the movie in, get everything set up!” Voldemort’s voice broke Quirrell out of his food fixation.

“Oh, yes! Yes,dear! What are we watching?” Quirrell stammered as he got two plates out of the cupboard.

“I told you, double feature!” Voldemort popped both DVD’s from their cases, about to put one in the bluray-DVD player. “‘She's all that’ and ‘Pretty Women!’”

Quirrell closed his eyes and bit his tongue. “I should've made him choose one.” He muttered to himself, it wasn't that he didn't want to watch them, he just knew he wouldn't be able to concentrate at all.

Getting two wine glasses out, he brought them to the living room coffee table and sat them down as Voldemort tried to get the tv over to the right setting.

“It's AV DVD, not HDMI one.” Quirrell smirked as he passed by, going back to the kitchen.

Voldemort went to AV DVD, clenching his jaw. “I would've gotten there eventually!”

The timer on the oven went off, and with an excited huzzah, Quirrell put on his oven mitts and got the rolls out, practically perfect. He fist pumped in the air slightly, the anxiety in his stomach subsiding for a moment now that all the food was done. He got out two tiny salad bowls, and all the cutlery they could need. 

“Okay, dinner’s done! Come fix your plate!”

Anxiety was taking over him, Quirrell could barely eat. It was around the middle of the second movie he finally finished his dinner, Voldemort being done by the time Freddie Prince Jr. said his first line. Quirrell couldn't pay attention, a monologue running through his head of what to say and what not to say. Sure, he had tons of things planned to say, but as the time got closer and closer he wanted to put it off, wanted to rewrite his whole speech. He decided that was a stupid idea and try to act as normal as he could, which wasn't proving to be successful.

“You know man, that was delicious, thank you.” Voldemort pulled him out of his thoughts, both of them on the couch, plates discarded to the coffee table. Voldemort had finished his wine, Quirrell had maybe a sip. He really wanted the full bottle.

“Thank you, um, oh!” He stood, pointing at the kitchen. “I made brownies, I'll have to heat them up, but no big deal.”

Voldemort had a puzzled look on his face. “When did you have time to bake brownies?” 

“To be honest, I couldn't sleep last night, and I knew I was going to do this, so I thought why not?” A nervous chuckle left Quirrell’s lips as he sealed them tight. 

Voldemort pondered, looking around the room before settling on Quirrell’s anxious gaze. “You're being too nice to me today.”

“I… am, yes.” He turned on his heel, almost sprinting back into the kitchen like it was a safety net. Dishes and glasses flew through the air after him, magically levitating them to the sink. 

With Quirrell out of the room, Voldemort paused the movie, and looked around the room for something to distract him. Looking out the window, the sun had been replaced with the moon, stars visible through the tree line of the woods outside. He tried to place any constellations he could, but he was impatient and Quirrell knew them better than he did. Raising his wand and focusing on the beautiful night sky, the ceiling began to shift. Between the vines, flowers, and moss, the sky bled through; the canopy effect coming to fruition. Coming back in with a plate of hot brownies and a can of whipped cream, Quirrell had to pause and just stare in wonderment at the beautiful scene his boyfriend had created.

“This is…” He couldn't find the right words as he sat the plate and spray can down on the couch between them. “Amazing, I had no idea you could do this!”

“Just because I was the Dark Lord doesn't mean I didn't pay attention in illusory class.” Voldemort commented nonchalantly, popping the cap off of the can and spraying whipped cream directly into his mouth.

They sat in silence for a moment before Quirrell pointed at an opening where the ‘sky’ peaked through. “You even got Scorpio right! That's impressive!” 

Voldemort, with half a brownie already in his mouth smiled. “I was going for Aquarius.”

“It's still impressive you got it, instead of just a clump of stars!” Quirrell interrupted his sentence with his own laughter. 

As they ate brownies and whipped cream, finishing their second movie, the pit returned to Quirrell’s stomach. It was certainly passed midnight, and they were both tired, but Quirrell knew it was too perfect. Turning the tv off with flick of his hand, he stood, trying to muster any sense of confidence he had gained in his thirty-two years. With a snap, his parents old record player started, a slow jazz song filling the room. Quirrell offered his hand to Voldemort.

“Dance with me?”

Voldemort seemed to beam up at him before taking his hand, being lead around the coffee table so they could have more room to slow dance. Stepping to a basic waltz was easy, their go-to, if you will. After a few turns of getting into rhythm, Quirrell still needing to look down at his feet occasionally, they settled into a nice pace. They transitioned to swaying after the song changed, Voldemort finding it a nice time to start to lead him into an actual dance where as Quirrell stood his ground. 

“You're leading.” Voldemort found himself a tad astonished. “You never lead!”

“I do sometimes!” He lead them in front of the fireplace, just to demonstrate.

“We have been together for ten years and every time we dance, I always lead.” Voldemort felt a small crunch under his socked foot, they were in the makeshift flower bed he had made before. 

Quirrell got cocky, dipping him and kissing him dramatically. “I always let you lead.” He whispered as they parted, standing them both upright. 

They started kissing fervently, Voldemort already trying to unbutton Quirrell’s shirt. Quirrell broke away to catch his breath, feeling like he could see stars behind his eyelids out of pure pleasure. 

“Wait, wait, wait.” Quirrell put both hands on each side of Voldemort’s face. “One second, hold on.”

He was puzzled for a moment as Quirrell kissed him slowly and gingerly before stopping with a sigh.

“I love you, Voldemort.” There was a look in his eyes Voldemort couldn't place. Excitement? Sadness?

“I- I love you too, what's wrong?” He never got scared, but in this moment he was definitely a little worried.

Quirrell anxiously licked his lips as he knelt down on this bed of flowers, taking out a small black box from his pocket. “When we met, I don't think either of us knew how important that night was. I mean, if you told young me he'd meet the love of his life in the forbidden forest he'd laugh and ask if he even had one.”

“We are completely different, Voldemort- and sometimes that's not the best, but mostly, it's fantastic. You're fantastic. I've written and rewritten this speech millions of times, and every time I feel like it's not enough. Like I'm not enough for you, because you deserve the world. And not in the take over-domination way, I mean… Every point in your life led to destruction, and every point in mine led to mediocrity. But look at us now. I'm the happiest I've ever been!”

“And I need you to know, it's not the piece of your heart in me that makes us soulmates. It's love. My love for you. I might have a part of you, but you have my whole heart, no matter what. No matter where, no matter when. I- I love you so much.” Quirrell started to tear up, smiling through his tears. 

“There were so many times in my life where okay meant horrible, or depressed even. It meant feeling so ostracized by life, I barely had anything to turn to. It meant feeling so unloved by everyone in my life. But you changed that- together, we changed that. Okay means happiness, and acceptance. Okay means love and to be loved, fully and wholly. You've-” They were both crying now, Quirrell trying not to get choked up.

“Voldemort, you've made my okay wonderful. Will you marry me?” He flipped the top of the ring box open, a golden band inside. 

For a few moments, Voldemort couldn't get the words out, just nodding furiously. “Of course, yes! Yes!”

“Oh my wizard god!” Quirrell stood up, taking the ring out of the box and giving it to him. “Oh my- you said yes! Ha!”

Before even putting the ring on, Voldemort hugged him, making Quirrell stumble a bit, both laughing and crying. They shared a long, passionate kiss, humming and chuckling as the fire roared beside them and the flower bed grew underneath them. Voldemort rested his forehead on Quirrell’s shoulder as they melted into an embrace. A smile plastered on their faces as they hugged, swaying to the record player.

“I can't believe it, Squirrel!”

“Me either!”

A small chuckle erupted from Voldemort as he lifted his head, kissing Quirrell’s nose. “You're not going to believe this.”

“What?” Quirrell watched as Voldemort let go and ran across the room to what he assumed was their bedroom, only to come back with his own deep purple ring box. “Oh my god!”

Voldemort smiled and bit his lip, shaking his head at the box. “You see, next weekend is the anniversary of our first date, and I had this whole thing planned,” Voldemort pointed at a laughing Quirrell. “And you had to go and ruin it being all romantic too early!”

“Oh my god!” Quirrell couldn't tell if his tears were from before or now, but they were most certainly there, along with his laughter. “Oh no!” 

“Oh no is right! I had this scavenger hunt planned out and it would take you to different places, like our first kiss, first ‘I love you.’ I rented out a roller rink for you!” Voldemort couldn't help but laugh, placing his arms around Quirrell, always a step behind in their romantic endeavors.

“You did what?!?! Well now you have to propose!” Quirrell ran his hands through Voldemort’s hair.

“No, I know! I spent so much money on the damn roller rink!” Voldemort feigned anger, putting the ring box on the fireplace mantle.

He looked between the ring box and his new fiancee. “Do I get to at least see the ring?” 

“No, not until I propose at that stupid fuckin’ roller rink, Quirrell!” They laughed, their petty fake arguments reminding them of their real ones they had a decade ago before sharing another warm kiss.

“I love you.” Quirrell whispered, everything perfect and serene around them. 

“I love you too.” Another whisper as their lips met once again, everything was wonderful.

**Author's Note:**

> Dedicated to Miranda and Torrie, Less than three.


End file.
